


A Stormy Sea of Moving Emotions

by songbvrd



Series: Finale Fix-It Fics! [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, Dean Winchester POV, Dean survived the rebar but wound up in a wheelchair, M/M, Mostly Fluff, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Saileen as well, Some angst, but more background - Freeform, castiel finds a way to help, completing dean's emotional arc since the show wouldn't xoxo, finale fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbvrd/pseuds/songbvrd
Summary: Dean thought he was going to die when he was impaled in the barn.He's surprised when he wakes up on hospital, alive and with Castiel and Sam at his side. Things have changed irreparably, leaving Dean paralysed and learning to start a new life, without hunting.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Finale Fix-It Fics! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025170
Comments: 13
Kudos: 131





	A Stormy Sea of Moving Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this was based on art by @Diminuel on twitter! I absolutely loved it and wanted to write something inspired by it. This fic is a little all over the place, but I truly hope you guys like it.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any/all comments as always! And if there's any other fix it premises you'd like to see me write, please let me know!

Dean actually didn’t know if he could sort out his worst days. He had no idea whether there was a list to be made. Between his own hundred odd deaths, the multiple deaths of his brother, father, mother, Bobby, Cas and everyone else Dean loved, he was sure that was already a list longer than most people could accumulate in ten lifetimes. That was without all the apocalypses and every day he or Sam had spent in hell.

He couldn’t even easily recall his top ten most painful days, because there were a shitload of those as well. He thought he was knocked unconscious or thrown into a wall more days than not, and he wasn’t sure if there were any ways he hadn’t felt his body get broken yet. 

Despite that, this was another thing again. Shoved backwards into the rebar, he felt it. He felt the pierce, felt the excruciating, shocking pain. He knew if Sam pulled him off it, that would be the end. He could feel it. He could feel the damage, feel how it hurt to breathe. He knew he was going to die.

He knew he was going to die and that there would be no reprieve, no second chance. 

He supposed, as far as his life went, he had already had several reprieves. Several times of being brought back, of being given second chances.

If this was how his freedom had to end, so be it. Dean didn’t want it to end like this, he didn’t want this to be his legacy, but he figured there was some kind of poetry to the whole thing.

He had spent his entire life fighting to be free, fighting to keep the people he loved safe, fighting to be a hero and to have all the suffering mean something. He had finally defeated the big bad, the final boss, the God he had never wanted to face. He had finally secured the only freedom he would ever get to have. They had lost so many people along the way, nearly everyone they’d ever loved, and more than once. But they had gotten there. They had gotten that ending, done something actually meaningful with their life. They hadn’t just freed themselves, they’d freed everyone.

How ironic then, that Dean himself would never get to enjoy that freedom. How ironic that his final act not be the truly heroic thing they’d finally done, but instead a routine hunt. A piece of rebar on a wall. A coincidence. An accident.

Sam was telling him to hold on, telling him he could get help and Dean was trying to convince him that it was okay, that it was the end and that that was okay, because at least they were free, and because things were different, and because Sam having a life without him couldn’t be so bad. All these years of having nobody except each other, of slowly growing their family outside of themselves, outside of blood… Maybe it was time Sam got to live a life outside of worrying about Dean. Outside of their priority always being each other.

This was, in a way, a freedom for Sam too. A freedom to go on living for himself and not for Dean.

He kept insisting that it was too late, that he couldn’t be saved, and Sam was crying, but Dean was still trying to hold everything in.

When the barn doors swung open, Dean was flashed back to a different time. He remembered Castiel, walking through that barn like a man on a mission. How terrified he had been at the time. Because of the shattering windows and burned out eyes. Because of the fact he was raised at all. He and Bobby were shooting, but nothing was happening. The man just moved closer, and Dean was terrified. Absolutely fucking terrified.

He had had no idea then, not even an inkling of one, that this Angel, this man, would come to mean so much to him. Back then, all Dean could think of was how they were going to gank it. Of what kind of threat he was to them. 

Time changed all things. Castiel didn’t look like that now though. He was red faced and panicked, looking around desperately and running when he saw Dean. 

“Cas?” Dean managed to get the words out through chapped and bloody lips.

He had enough time to see red and blue lights flickering and people running in behind him before all the life in his body seemed to sap away, and everything went dark.

*

Green eyes flickered open, but Dean couldn’t see anything. Everything looked blurry and unclear. Too bright, too white, too uncomfortable. What memory was this? Why was he still in pain? Surely death would take that away. 

Dean had sort of supposed he would be going to hell, given Jack would no longer step in, no longer upset the balance, but this didn’t look like Hell. This didn’t look like Heaven either. 

It sure as hell didn’t feel like either place, because Dean was woozy and there was a dull pain that seemed to radiate his entire body, weighing it down. He could feel a mask on his face, and when he really concentrated, he could feel fabric beneath his hands.

Dean wasn’t in Heaven or Hell. Dean was alive.

He tried to lift his head enough to look around, but nothing happened, like he had no control at all. He could hear voices, but they seemed faint and far away, like he was underwater. 

The last thing he remembered was Sam. The rebar. Telling Sam to stay with him, that they didn’t have time. 

And then…

“Dean?” He heard Cas’ voice through the haze, Sam’s breathless call of his name echoing after it. 

How? How was that possible?

“His eyes are open!”

“Get the doctor!”

Dean couldn’t make out much of anything after that, the voices seemed unfamiliar and shrill, and Dean fell back into the darkness.

*

When he woke for a second time, things cleared a little quicker. He managed to make out Sammy, sitting beside a bed, book in hand. He couldn’t make out the book his younger brother was reading at all, but he could see Sam. There was a paper cup of coffee between his knees and he looked exhausted, like his eyes were hanging out of his head. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail thing which was, in and of itself, a sign something was wrong.

Dean had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but there was no blood on Sammy now. 

He looked around the room, but found no one else.

Maybe he had been dreaming. 

Dean was still trying to make sense of the fact that he was alive at all, he had been sure he was as good as dead in that place. He had been sure it was the end. In fact, he had been sure that seeing Cas at the end had been no more than his imagination, no more than a desire to be back with him. To get to properly answer him. To get to make things right. 

It took Sam a few minutes to glance up and see that Dean was watching him. Dean still felt like he couldn’t move at all, and he knew that there were tubes attached to his nose and covering his mouth. He couldn’t say something to get Sam’s attention even if he wanted to.

But when Sam caught his eyes, he got to his feet, and Dean heard the deep, familiar voice call out for a nurse or a doctor, for anyone. 

The nurse was unfamiliar to him, but she talked in a calming voice, and since Dean couldn’t ask any questions, he didn’t. He wanted to rip the things out of him and get going, as was his way. He hated to be fussed over. But no amount of desire to move was going to make him, his body was completely empty. Numb. He was sure it was whatever drugs they had him pumped full of, that he had been incapacatated for a reason. After all, he had been so sure he was never going to get out of there. He had been so sure that the barn was his final resting place on Earth. 

He could see Sam texting and he wanted to ask, but then Sam was by his side again, the nurse was gone, and he was trying to catch Sam’s frantic and urgent words in his ear. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” He lost words here and there, but he caught most of it. Or what he thought was most of it, “I had no idea, the ambulance got there in time but only barely…” Dean lost more, but then he caught, “Been nearly a month…” He lost more, but caught, “Coming now.”

Dean wanted the breathing tubes off him, he wanted to be able to talk, wanted to be able to ask questions. Ask what happened to him, ask how he was saved. How they even got away from that barn that night. Whether the children they had been trying to protect were safe. 

Sam kept muttering things, but Dean never fully managed to make sense of things. What was worse, at some point, Sam left, apparently to want to speak to doctors and Dean was left alone again, trying to figure out what the hell happened. Trying to figure out where the hell he even was in the scheme of things. Trying to figure out if he was even going to survive this or if he was still as good as dead, just with a far more drawn out procedure. 

Dean stayed put, waiting to find out more, having no other choice but to lay there, when he saw another familiar figure come through the door.

He tried to mouth Cas’ name, but failed. He heard his own name come from Cas’ mouth and he desperately wanted to reach out to him, but he couldn’t find any strength. 

It didn’t matter, Cas was at his side immediately anyway and Dean could faintly feel a hand in his, could faintly feel the pressure of someone at his side. He could hear Cas talking, but he wasn’t making sense of things, properly. He had never heard Cas sound like this. So worried, so unstable. 

Then Sam and a doctor returned, and the doctor came to Dean. They told him they were going to remove the tubes helping him breathe, that he should be fine to do it on his own, but that he must signal to them if anything went wrong. 

Dean agreed, and they removed the tubes from him. 

He tried to speak, but his voice sounded croaky and weak, empty. “Heya, Sammy. Cas.”

Sam and Cas both looked on the verge of crying, which only made Dean less comfortable about it all. Less confident in where this was going.

It was the Doctor who finally answered him. She was kind in her mannerisms, but her sympathetic smile only set his teeth on edge. 

“Hello, Mr Winchester. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother and husband speak very highly of you.” Dean’s eyes flickered over to Cas, who looked weirdly sheepish despite his obvious worry. “I don’t know how much you remember about your accident. I don’t want to go into the specific trauma of what happened, but I do have to discuss with you the aftermath of what happened.”

Sam moved to lift Dean’s bed, so that he was sitting rather than laying, so that he could see the woman’s face more clearly, see Sam and Cas’ expressions as well. 

“Okay…” Dean croaked out, either unable or unwilling to elaborate. His own panic was only growing. The seriousness of this all started to set in.

“When you had your accident, the rebar became lodged in your back, and it severed your spinal cord.” Dean blinked, trying to understand, “We can talk about it all more in detail later, I don’t want to overwhelm you. We’ve had you in a coma for three weeks. Though you will, mentally, be just fine… The trauma to your spine was severe. We can try physical therapy, try for improvements, but the difficult reality is that it is very likely that you will never be able to walk again.”

She went on talking, but Dean didn’t really hear it. His mind was reeling from what he’d just heard. Severed spinal cord. Coma. Never walk again.

His eyes were fluttering, and he could see the concerned expressions of his family.

She was still talking, but Dean wondered if anyone was really listening anymore.

*

Dean was sitting up in bed, a little cup of pudding on the table in front of him, plastic spoon in hand. Sam was sitting beside him now, Castiel having gone off to get himself and Sam coffee. Dean had been consistently waking and staying up for weeks now, and he was slowly trying to come to terms with it all. Or, at the very least, getting through each day.

He was continuing to fight, no matter how impossible it felt right at that moment. That was what the Winchesters did. They fought. It had never been quite like this before, and Sam and Cas seemed not to really know how to speak with him, seemed not to want to have any difficult conversations with him right at that point, and Dean was more than happy to oblige that. Whatever had happened, he didn’t really want to know. He didn’t really want to understand. 

“Remember that time I pulled my pants down and yelled pudding on that hunt?” Dean asked quietly, forcing a smile onto his face. It was Dean’s way. His primary instinct was to soften the blow as much as he could for his loved ones, rather than going through it all himself. 

Sam smiled at the ground for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I remember.”

Dean tried something else, just trying to get Sam to talk to him properly again. “How’s Eileen?” He asked.

Sam pressed his lips together. “The last time I spoke to her, she was good.” He spoke quietly and Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I haven’t, uh, I haven’t seen her in a while.” 

Dean nodded, “I figured that, you’re always here. When are you going to see her again?” He asked with as much gentleness as Dean ever could muster. 

“Don’t know.” Sam said, his tone clipped, like he was hoping Dean would drop it.

“You should go see her,” Dean pressed again, “Cas is here, and the doctors, it’s not like you’d be leavin’ me alone. Besides, not like I’m goin’ anywhere now…” He tried for a joke, but Sam just glared at him as if he’d said something horrible about him.

“Dean…”

“Sam, please. Really.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “All of this, it’s hard enough without feelin’ like… you’re giving up on something great because of me.”

Sam frowned at Dean, as though he knew what he was doing. And, sure, Dean was willing to use any card in his hand. He felt very strongly that anything he could say or do to make Sam stop spiralling and live was worth doing.

“I’ll text her myself, Sam. Get her to come here. I’m not above it…” He paused, “Did you even tell her? Or did you just drop off the map?”

Sam’s eyes fell to the ground. 

“Go.” Dean said again, eyes wide. “Please. I’ll explain to Cas. Please.” 

Sam took a deep breath, but nodded his head. “The impala…” 

Dean shrugged, “She’s yours now anyway.” 

Sam looked pained, but nodded. He squeezed Dean’s hand, got to his feet, then walked away. 

It was a few minutes before Cas returned in his place, coffee in hand. Dean was just happy to have company, but he missed his freedom. All that time fighting for freedom and now he was trapped in this bed. It would be easier if he were allowed to return to the bunker at least, but he knew that would need more time. That they were still managing and figuring out his treatment plan, figuring out how things would be moving forward.

But still, he hadn’t really been alone with Cas since it all happened, and they hadn’t had much time to talk. Any, really. Dean had about a thousand questions, but he had been trying hard to steer clear of the worst topics. 

When Cas took Sam’s spot beside Dean’s bed, he tried to figure out what to say. How to broach any of this.

“So… you’re my husband?” Dean asked, trying hard to contain the little smile that pulled at his lips.

Cas tried to smile back, but it looked strained. It looked as though he was exhausted to the point of tears, but Dean didn’t know how to even ask about that.

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “They wouldn’t let me in here unless I was… immediate family. I didn’t want to say I was your brother, so I... “ He paused, “I apologise if…”

“Nah, doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” Dean answered easily, waving it off with his right hand. “I’m glad you came up with a way to get in here. I sorta thought I was dreamin’ that you turned up there. That you were never really there at all.”

Cas shook his head, “I brought the ambulances. I was here those whole three weeks, Sam and I. We sat here and waited together.” 

Dean frowned, “I’m really sorry, man, I didn’t--”

“Don’t.” Cas cut him off. “Stop it. All your life, you’ve always worried how everything you do affects everyone else. You’re not allowed to feel guilty for this too. I forbid it.”

Dean actually let out a little laugh, “You forbid it?”

“Yes.” Cas sounded stern, more like the version of himself he was when Dean first met him, “I forbid it. You’re not allowed to feel guilty for how it affected us. We’re worried about you.”

Dean smiled a little, “You say that as if this won’t just go in a cyclical fashion forever. As if you, me and Sam won’t just live in a bubble of each blaming ourselves for each other, just like we always have.” He waited a moment, as if trying to figure out how to proceed with the conversation. “They’ve been teachin’ me how to use the wheelchair.” 

“Oh.” Cas looked worried, and Dean wondered if he’d taken the wrong step.

“A few more weeks and I’ll be able to leave this place. Thanks to you.” He managed again, “I really thought it was over in that barn. I really thought that was it…”

Cas met his eyes, stared at him for a moment with an expression Dean couldn’t read, but said no more. 

So Dean continued, “How’d you get there, Cas? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you sleeping in those chairs. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how fucking tired you look. What’s going on, man? Did you strain your grace getting me out? That it? Keep saving me from perdition?”

Castiel sighed deeply before he spoke again. “No.” He licked his lips. “Jack pulled me out of the Empty. He told me I could return to Heaven, help to rebuild it, be a real Angel again.” He took another sharp breath, as though he didn’t want to say it, before explaining. “When I saw what happened, the… the rebar, I asked Jack to heal you. To let me heal you. He said no. He said we weren’t interfering anymore, that we couldn’t interfere anymore. I couldn’t let it go. He told me… That if I wanted, he could return me to Earth. Allow me to try to save you through… human means. But that if I did that… I would be human. That there could be no more… cosmic imbalance. That the saving could only be through human means.” 

Dean frowned at him, listening to the explanation. “Wait, you mean… you’re human?” He asked, eyes widening in shock and surprise. In concern. “Cas, you gave up your grace so that I would… so that you could try to keep me alive?”

He just nodded, and Dean felt a jolt of guilt. Of frustration. Anger, even. How could Cas do that? How could he give up everything for Dean? Again? Surely he’d already topped out his quota for the year. 

“Cas, how could you do that? What if they hadn’t saved me, what if I’d just died…?” He frowned, “You would just be…” 

“Human. For the rest of my life. Yes.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” 

“I will never just sit by and watch you die, Dean. Never. It was worth the chance. I would do it again.”

“I love you. You know that, right?” Dean asked quietly. It was hard for him to say, hard for him to get the words out. But he had tried before. Cas had already been gone by the time he could find the words. 

Cas just blinked at him for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. “No, I didn’t know. But… thank you for telling me.” It wasn’t exactly the reaction Dean was expecting, but he figured they were all still on edge. That things were still complicated and difficult. 

“Uh… okay.” Dean took another breath, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry. That you had to give all that up for me.”

“I’m not.” Cas answered simply, and the two sat in silence until the nurse returned.

*

It was weeks before Dean was allowed to leave. He had spent so long in the hospital he could swear he’d forgotten the hum of his car’s engine. Forgotten the colour of his bed sheets. He wanted to return home.

It was difficult, and painful, and he was still coming to terms with his new reality. But he could handle that. Freedom was worth that. Home was worth that. Maybe then Cas and Sam could learn to regain their lives outside of worrying about him all the time. Maybe he could learn to be self sufficient again. He could return to Miracle and to his room and to his favourite nightgown and he figured, in a weird way, this was peace. 

He wouldn’t be a hunter now, but maybe that was a relief. In the end, he hadn’t really wanted that anyway. He had wanted freedom and a life, and, although this wasn’t how he would’ve wanted it, he would be forced into it now.

Maybe Eileen could even come stay, Dean would do what he could to try to better their relationship. He hoped, eventually, Sam would go with her. That he would get married, have a child, that he would have a life. A real one. The one he had always wanted when he went off to Stanford. 

And Cas… Cas could have his own room in the bunker. Stay with Dean, even, if he wanted to. 

Sam was wheeling him out into the parking lot and Dean had his arms folded in his lap, just happy to be finally going home. Whatever home was now. 

“There was… talk of a party. A group of our family who are still alive, coming to welcome you home. I thought… I didn’t think you’d want that.”

Dean nodded slowly, “Good instincts.” He said quietly, “I just want to… settle in. There’s a lot of stairs and… the bunker isn’t the most… wheelchair friendly.” 

Sam nodded once more, and Dean watched as Cas turned up in a van. A wheelchair accessible van. Dean figured they had probably bought it, likely with a stolen card of some description, and he was grateful. For as much as he loved the impala, he didn’t think he was getting into that properly any time soon. 

Sam helped him in, and they drove in silence the way home. 

Getting there wasn’t any easier. 

Getting in required more help again. The stairs weren’t easy, and when Sam went to lift Dean, Dean could feel actual emotion rising in his chest. It was difficult to place it, maybe it was hating to feel like maybe he was a burden on them. Maybe it was really coming to terms with how different things were going to be.

Either way, his thoughts didn’t get far when they were interrupted by Cas. 

“Let me.”

Sam sounded concerned when he answered, “Are you sure? You haven’t been human long and…”

It stood to reason that Sam knew; that they had discussed it all in the weeks when Dean was gone, but he hadn’t reasoned it all through in his mind yet. He hadn’t even really considered what they had discussed while he was gone. What they had told each other. 

“I’m sure.” Cas said, winding an arm under Dean’s upper back and another under his thighs to lift him. 

Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was difficult for him, that his life had taken such a sharp and intense shift in another direction. 

That it was overwhelming to be carried like this, to need Sam and Cas just to be able to get into his own home. There were steps all around the place. Unless they could fix it all, Dean would continue to be reliant on them.

Cas carried him all the way to his own room, and Dean could feel that he was struggling at a point. Dean was bigger than him, and Cas wasn’t an angel anymore. Still, he was visibly trying to keep his breathing steady. Trying to keep from letting on to Dean that he was struggling too.

But they were all struggling. They were all trying to make peace with a huge change. 

“Thank you,” Dean told Cas quietly when he was set on the bed. 

It was only a few moments later that Miracle bounded onto the bed, dropping happily into Dean’s arms. Dean had been gone for months at this point, yet Miracle didn’t care any. Miracle didn’t know a damn thing had changed. Miracle’s Dad was back, and he was happy. 

It struck Dean suddenly how extraordinarily lucky he was to even be alive. To have been through Hell, literally, and still be here. To have been through angels and demons and so much death and destruction it was hard to handle. To have literally faced God. 

To have been through everything he had, everything his family had, and to be laying here, in his home, with a human Castiel and his dog.

Dean couldn’t help it. A laugh spilt out through his lips and once it was out, he couldn’t stop.

“What?” Cas asked, brows furrowed. His confusion reminded Dean of how he had been in the beginning, and that only made Dean laugh more. The realisation of how far they’d truly come. Of how much had truly changed in the end. 

Dean Winchester, a kid who had been trying to protect everyone else and save the world since he was four years old, gone from nothing to one of the hunters who defeated Chuck… It was surreal. 

There was no guarantee they’d ever be truly safe. That people or monsters would ever stop coming after them.

But something about this did feel final to Dean. All that time being pulled along like a puppet of Heaven or Hell. It was just him now. Just Dean, living the consequences of his life. Just a person, like any other. 

“Come.” Dean said, his voice unusually soft. He patted the bed beside him and Cas obliged. He moved to sit behind the hunter, and he looked oddly nervous. Removed.

Dean didn’t know where to start with any of the million things he wanted to say. 

“Why did you respond like that when I said I loved you?” He asked, his weird euphoria at the realisation of his actual freedom making him brave. 

Cas cleared his throat. “You’ve gone through significant trauma and I know you feel that you owe me. I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean simply because of the circumstances.” He paused, “I also… wasn’t sure how you meant it.”

He looked down at his hands in his lap and Dean went on scratching behind Miracle’s ear, who panted happily from his spot on Dean’s legs. Dean thought it would be good for him, in one way, because Miracle would never get kicked off because Dean’s legs were asleep now, at least. He tried to find a thousand silver linings. Little things. But really, it all came back to this.

He was alive.

“Let me clarify.” Dean cleared his throat, his voice sounding scratchy, maybe from emotion. He was loath to ever admit it. But he’d spent his entire life feeling as though to show emotion was to show weakness. That came from John, and Dean knew that it wasn’t right. That it wasn’t good. He knew the inability to express emotion that had been drilled into their family had only been a part of the dark, twisted obligation they all felt. They were meant to save people. They were never meant to be a burden.

Dean had spent the better part of fifteen years trying to figure out exactly how to take ownership of his own feelings. He thought he got it now. He could’ve been gone. Really, truly gone. He might never have seen Miracle again. He might have missed out on Sam and Eileen’s inevitable wedding. He might never have gotten to explain to Cas how he felt about him. How he properly felt, beneath all of his bullshit attempts to cover it in seven layers of flannel and friendship. 

“I am in love with you, Castiel. Angel or human or… baby in a trenchcoat, I am in love with you.” It felt terrifying, to have his heart on his sleeve like this, but Dean figured he’d earned it. Forty years of caring so much about everyone else that he never even allowed himself to consider anyone else.

He thought back to the kid he was at twenty-six, the one who had stood outside Sam’s room for hours out of fear of rejection, the one who had had no one else in the world, but who hid all that insecurity behind bravado and cocky smiles. He thought about the man he had been at thirty, trying to stop an apocalypse and carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. The man he was at thirty-five, still blaming himself for every bad thing, every lost life, every apocalypse. He thought about himself even only a few months before. The man willing to pull a gun on his own brother for a chance at freedom. The man who felt it was always his duty to protect someone else. To do the right thing. He was in his forties now, and had died more times than anyone -- besides maybe Sam -- could count. Castiel had once told Dean that he didn’t think he deserved to be saved. The angels had told him he had poisoned Castiel, corrupted him. 

The truth, he realised, was actually far simpler. Cas and Dean were what each other needed. Two broken, insecure people, who felt that they owed everyone else every piece of themselves, who learned to forgive everyone except themselves. 

Cas and Dean had changed each other. Cas had broken Chuck’s script by falling in love with him. Cas had convinced Dean he was more than a killer, more than a monster. Cas and Dean had changed each other irreparably by loving each other.

Cas and Dean had changed the world irreparably by loving each other. Saved it, even. 

Castiel was still staring at him, and Dean didn’t know what he was meant to add to that. He couldn’t be any clearer, green eyes staring into Castiel’s blue ones, waiting for something, some sign that he understood or believed or was still awake even.

“Are you sure?” He finally asked. Dean wanted to laugh, but he thought it might come off wrong. Because it wasn’t funny, not in that sense. It was only funny because… how could Cas still believe, after all this time, that Dean didn’t feel the same way? Dean would tear everything apart for Cas. Again and again, and he had. His family, his life, wasn’t right without Castiel in it. It never would be. 

“Am I sure?” Dean repeated, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Lean down so I can kiss you, I’m at a distinct disadvantage.” 

Cas swallowed and it only made Dean smile wider. When Cas finally got close enough for Dean to kiss, he wondered if real life ever was the cosmic, epic thing that Chuck talked about. The biblical, life-changing story. The love of scripture or of legend.

This wasn’t that. They weren’t an epic, fantastical, destiny-build story written by the Father himself.

They were the opposite. They were two people who were never meant to fall in love. Two people God himself desperately tried to keep apart. Two people who came together anyway. They weren’t soulmates or foretold, they had chosen this. They had worked for this. They had picked each other.

Somehow, that felt far more special to Dean.

He brought one hand up to rest against Castiel’s cheek as he kissed him. It wasn’t some perfect, magical moment. Miracle kicked Dean in the stomach and he spluttered, and they both pulled back laughing.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t gospel or bible. It was them. It was too men, forehead to forehead, letting out quiet, giddy laughs.

Cas leaned back away and they had far more success the second time. 

“Are you sure?” It was Dean who asked it now, because despite his amusement, he apparently had the same problems. “I’m… it’s not going to be easy to be with me, not now…” He said softly, “There’s going to be an adjustment period and… and we’ll need to find a place or… or fix the bunker and… I can’t hunt anymore, I mean, I’ll have to find a real job or something somehow…”

Cas leaned down to kiss him again and Dean melted willingly into it. “How many times do people have to point out to you that I would do anything for you before you believe it?”

How could Dean ever love anyone else? How could there ever be anyone besides his Angel? Aside from this man, who walked into Dean’s life like some angry, vengeful God on a mission, who didn’t care for humans, and decided that Dean was worth saving. Worth protecting. Worth loving.

How was Dean supposed to deny he was worth loving when someone like Cas, someone who tried, who fought, even when it was hard, thought he was worth it. How was Dean supposed to deny the chance at a life with an angel who rebelled against all of Heaven for him, an angel who, despite God and Heaven and Hell’s best attempts, just couldn’t be broken.

Maybe he had a crack in his chassis. But that crack was made of love and humanity and compassion. And Dean adored him for it.

*

“So, you all know my brother.” Dean held the glass up in front of himself, looking out over the little group of people. It had grown slightly larger than expected, but truly not by much. It was only ever small. “You all know the stories about us, the legends,” People laughed and Dean laughed along with them, “But what you don’t know is that Sam used to be short.” This drew out more of a laughter, not just from their guests, but from Sam and Eileen themselves. 

“He used to be shorter than me, if you can believe it. Sam was this, like, crazy smart kid. We didn’t really get to do the school thing and we were constantly on the road, but Sam was always so smart. So much smarter than me. He was clever and funny. He was also kind of an idiot, but you all know that, you’ve met him.”

“See, when I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine Sammy ever getting married. Not because he’s not loveable, he totally is, but because… our family was a disaster. No one here is shocked by that,” He caught nods from around the room, “I didn’t know that love existed. I didn’t know it was really, properly real. Not like this anyway. But uh, corny as it sounds, I knew things were different with Eileen. She just… got him. Got him in a way other people never did. She was also smart. Smarter than him probably.”

“She had a way of calling him on his shit, which, as you all know, we Winchester brothers need sometimes. Anyway, I don’t want to go on for too long, I’m not much for speeches and it’s not really appropriate to do a Braveheart speech here, so I’ll keep it short and sweet.”

“Sammy. You’re my little brother. You’re my best friend. For a long time, family was just you and me. Just a set of initials scratched into an impala. It was cereal in a motel room at two o’clock in the morning and pranks on the road to different hunts. But our family expanded. To include everyone else in the room… Someone really wise once told me family don’t end in blood. Our family never did. But if there’s one thing I’m really sure of… it’s that I couldn’t be happier to have Eileen joinin’ our family. Officially. ‘Bout time we had another female Winchester. And just remember, if you have a son, Dean or Deanna. Either works.” He flashed a grin, and he heard a few people whooping and cheering as he took a sip of his drink.

The group of them were sitting in a little dining room. A room Sam and Eileen had booked, with a pretty beach on display through the glass behind them. Pinks and purples and blues and oranges stained the sky, 

Between them all, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience, Kaia, Bobby, Charlie, Stevie, Adam, Jack, Sam, Eileen, Cas, Miracle and Dean, they weren’t many. But they were an excitable, supportive group. A family. Closer still since God was gone, since Dean had retired, since he and Cas had bought a house together, one that was easier for Dean to get around, easier for him to have some control. His wheelchair had a devil’s trap on the side, some kind of funny nod to his past in Sam, Cas and Eileen’s eyes.

Jack rarely came to visit these days, he was too busy, but this was something of a special occasion. And what other person could say God had come to their wedding? As their son? Literally? 

Once the speeches were over (and nearly everybody spoke), they took to dancing. The music wasn’t quite the classic rock Dean would’ve chosen, but it was nice, and it fitted the atmosphere. Once, he would’ve wanted to get up and swing Claire around, embarrass her as thoroughly as he could. Once, Dean would’ve done a lot differently than he did.

But he watched his family dance, watched Eileen and Sam stare lovingly into each others’ eyes, whispering things, Eileen’s belly only barely showing the bump of the child that would join their family. He watched Claire and Kaia, how surprisingly tender Claire was with Kaia. How surprising it was to see her not embarrassed, but plainly having fun. He watched Donna, Jody, Alex and Patience in a little circle, hands held, bobbing up and down, singing along to some Abba song Dean actually enjoyed.

Jack and Cas danced together, and Dean wondered what life choices he had made specifically that led him to watching his life partner and son, a former angel and God, dancing together so happily. 

It was a little while later when his angel joined him, sitting casually on Dean’s lap, as he sometimes did. Time had softened them both, allowed them to get comfortable with their relationship. With their feelings. Honesty had long since come to them, and vulnerability had long since been proved safe. They held each other's' hearts, and they each protected the other’s’. 

“You know, we could do this.” Cas said in a quiet voice. “We could do the wedding thing.”

Dean’s brows raised, “I thought you didn’t want to do that?”

“I didn’t…” Cas said quietly, “But uh… I guess I changed my mind. This is pretty nice.” He glanced back out, and Jack and Claire were holding hands and jumping up and down. There was a fondness to it all, something Dean couldn’t place. How had three men with such horrible fathers managed to raise the wonderful kids in this room? 

Dean took a deep breath, “You know, you could always ask Jack to become an angel again.”

Cas looked like Dean had struck him. “Why would I do that?” He asked, suspiciously.

Dean let his chin rest against Castiel’s shoulder, looking up at him. “You fell in love once. You could do it again. Have children even. You could keep living, even after I’m gone. Live an easier life… one with less… nightmares and…” He looked down at himself and back up at Castiel. “One with less damage.” He didn’t mean the chair specifically. Hell, he didn’t mean that at all. In Dean’s mind, that was the least of the burden he put on Castiel. He wasn’t sure he would ever really heal from the years of torture and suffering.

“How many times have we talked about this?” Cas said with a soft sigh, “Dean, you absolute moron, I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want more lifetimes. I already lived thousands without you. This… this is worth it.”

Dean sighed, frowning, “But Cas…”

“Since I was created, I believed in divine purpose. I believed in something greater, something deeper. I believed that I was built to fulfil the word of God. I learned, from you, that free will was far more important. I don’t want a purpose. I don’t want immortality. I want to grow old with the man I love. I want to… to make it up as we go along.”

He frowned, “I’m not worth that.”

Cas frowned, “This was a horrible way to respond to me suggesting we get married.”

Dean blanked for a moment, blinking at the other man. “Wait, was that… was that a serious proposal?” He asked, having thought it was a throwaway comment.

“Yes, Dean. This is my serious face. Marry me.”

Dean stared into his eyes, trying to classify the feelings he could see in the other man, trying to make sense of them.

“Fuck yeah.” Dean answered with a nod. “But we, uh, won’t mention it till after their honeymoon. It’s a no-no to propose at someone else’s wedding.”

Cas shot him a smile, “Is it still a no-no if your brother told me he would steal my car keys if I didn’t ask you tonight?”

Dean’s brows furrowed and he glanced up at Sam, who gave him a smug wave, one arm still around his wife.

“Guess not.”

Dean looked around at his family, then up at his… fiance, and he thought about how far they’d come. How far Dean was from the twenty-six year old boy too scared to ask his brother for help. The twenty-six year old boy who felt that he had to be who his father wanted him to be. Who felt that he could never be anything except a hunter. Who felt that he had nothing to offer the world.

He thought of Jack, who had come into the world with the weight of it on his shoulders. Who had tried so hard to be good, but who had gone through so damn much just in his first few years of life. Who, true to his word, had made the world better. Fairer. No sacrifices. No manipulations. No bullshit plan. Just a boy raised by Team Free Will, who truly wanted to see humanity be its best. Who truly believed in humanity and in their world. Who didn’t abandon, but who didn’t control. Their son, who Dean loved more than anything.

He thought of Sammy, and how his brother had only ever wanted a family and a normal life. A career. Sure, it was still weird not to live in the same place anymore, but it was a good weird. Sammy who had believed he was a monster. Who had fought for himself even through his own insecurities. Sammy who had been molded by God and by their father just like Dean. He watched Sammy now, the absolute giant looking lovingly into his pregnant wife’s eyes. The boy who overcame the demon blood. The boy who fought against Lucifer. One of the men who stopped God. A husband. A father. A man with a life. A man with the life he always wanted.

He thought of Cas. The self hating angel of Thursday with a crack in his chassis. The man who turned his back on everything he ever knew, who defied cosmic definitions and instructions. Who accepted himself and his capacity for love even though it hurt him. Even though he struggled. His Cas. His angel. Castiel had once told Dean he was heartless. Castiel was far from heartless. He had so much love and compassion to give to the world. To his family. He was Dean’s purest belief in humanity. Nobody would ever be perfect, free of darkness or corruption or weakness. Nobody, not even an angel. But Cas’ beauty wasn’t in his perfection. It was in his constant efforts to keep getting better.

Dean’s family had always been everything in the world to him, and he knew why now more than ever. They weren’t perfect. They weren’t functional. They weren’t undamaged and they weren’t special. Not anymore, anyway. They were just people. Just people who truly believed that they should leave the world better than they found it.

Dean liked to believe they had. Dean liked to believe their love had freed the world, once and for all.


End file.
